The Art of Gift Giving and of Relationships

‘Tis the season of gift giving, and whether you are giving in honor of Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, or a Sagittarian birthday, there is an art to gift giving that mimics the secrets of healthy relationships. Understanding the art of gifting helps one to develop the art of relationships. The Merriam-Webster online dictionary tells us that the word gift comes from a Middle English word meaning “something given, talent;” and its modern day definition does not deviate much from its source. According to MW, its three definitions are as follows: (1) a notable capacity, talent, or endowment, (2) something voluntarily transferred by one person to another without compensation, and (3) the act, right, or power of giving. Musical talent is considered a gift, usually one that a person is born with; and a guitar bought for this person is a related, yet different kind of gift.

I love giving gifts, and my favorite kind to give are those that are “voluntarily transferred” (definition 2) with an appreciation for a person’s notable talent or endowment (definition 1), and maybe particularly those talents or capacities that are most treasured by the recipient, either consciously or otherwise. In other words, I love to give gifts that appreciate a person’s uniqueness. Gifts that say “I see you; I appreciate who you are.” The wonderful thing is that we all have the capacity or power to give in this way (definition 3) if we so choose, and doing so does not necessarily cost much at all. Still, we tend to do so less frequently than we all may care to admit. I found the following distinction mentioned in a post on overachievercoach.blogspot.com. It is one I’ve heard described many times before: A present is something that you want the recipient to have. A gift is something that the recipient would want. Many of us tend to give presents over gifts. Why might this be so?

First, gifting comes with the prerequisite of empathy. In order to give something the recipient would want, we must step into their shoes, even if momentarily. This requires thought, time, and an opening of one’s heart. Second, opening one’s heart can be hard to do in certain relationships. Especially during the December holidays, we tend to give gifts, or presents, to those we might not choose to otherwise. A sibling with whom you’ve had a falling-out or an ongoing rivalry; a coworker who is likely not to return the favor of a present; a boss, parent, or spouse you’ve grown to resent; or a grab bag recipient whom you barely know. In such cases, empathy is challenging, to say the least. Relatedly, in relationships that contain a history of some hurt, giving a gift can feel a lot like forgiveness and can bring up many of the same challenges. We may feel as though giving (or for-giving) from a place of open-heartedness means that everything else is okay, and it may be too painful to risk sending out this message. I don’t believe that it does mean this; but I know it feels that way to most of us much of the time. Still, to the extent that it is tolerable, I believe in gifting over present-ing. Having said this, I should also say that the number one strategy to giving is, as is always the case from my perspective, AWARENESS. It doesn’t matter whether you give a gift or present or nothing; just that you know what you are doing and why.

The art of gift giving lies in having an open heart. Herein, also, lays the art of relationship; though here we need to take things a step further. The art of relating is rooted in an open heart, even though it can be painfully difficult to get there. As with gift giving, it can feel as though we are granting the other a kind of absolution that we do not wish to. The problem is that if we do not open our hearts, we are likely to have an effect on the other of closing, or keeping closed, his or her own heart. This presents each of us with a dilemma that is difficult to step out of. Again, the answer is AWARENESS, and articulating that awareness to the other. I can express to my husband, for example, that the way things are going really are not okay with me. I would like to see things change a bit—for us to stretch and grow. Coming from this place of an open heart will get me, and us, a lot further than doing so from a place of resentment. This is a real life example, and one that I have had to work hard to bring into awareness and to accept responsibility for. I believe it is my task to be honest and open. My husband knows that the way things are between us is not entirely satisfactory to me. And, he will be getting a gift, not a present, from me this holiday season.

There is one last issue that impacts our choice of gifts and our relationships. It is something like faith in ourselves. I have observed that many of us undermine our own capacity for empathy. We may believe that we really don’t have much to offer; that we are not important enough or capable of empathizing with another and giving a great gift. I think it was two years ago that I bought my UPS man a gift. I made the mistake of telling others I did this and was ridiculed. “You don’t buy the UPS man a gift! Just give him a monetary tip or gift certificate.” It was my intention to give him something that said “I acknowledge who you are,” but I was talked out of it by others. I felt incredibly embarrassed, actually, that I would have purchased a gift in the first place. I guess I believed that I wasn’t worthy of giving. It’s crazy to think about this; yet the gift is sitting in my attic as I type. And as anxiety provoking as it might have been, it would have warmed my heart to give him the gift. This is the thing about gift giving: When we can get there, it usually warms our souls as much as it touches those to which we give.

Maybe I’ll retrieve that gift for Mr. UPS from my attic this December….

Lessons of the Whispering Winter Wind

Winter is upon us. The taste of it is delivered by the tips of the wind as the purity of the colder air brings memories of Christmas time, football playoffs, and snow angels past. I can hear its sound mingle with the rhythm of computer keys being struck as I type, making music that captures the season. It’s the sound of flames escaping up the chimney with the wind created therein, alongside the occasional pop of the wood, which, no matter how often I hear it, always startles me to the degree to which I sit in closeness to the warm hearth.

I love the word “hearth” and the world it seems to gather in its utterance: A picture of home as warmth, comfort, and resting place. For me, winter is a time of welcome hibernation; an excuse to not be so busy; and a time to enjoy the creature comforts of familiarity. A soft sweater, cup of tea, blazing fire, and my dog curled up nearby create the equivalent contentment of a summer night on the town—maybe even better.

I know that I have safely made the transition from summer to winter (in my own subjective reality, there are really only two seasons) when I can appreciate all that winter has to offer. Summer is, admittedly, my favorite season and just the thought if it—or of a late winter visit to Miami—keeps my skin desperately clinging to its ever-fading tan and the glow of the sun held within it. Still, there is something about looking out my window into the quickly darkening sky through barren tree branches that gifts me with a capacity for a deeper appreciation of both summer and winter and the transitioning seasons between the two. Each winter I learn something about the impermanence of life and its corollary, letting-go.

It’s not an intellectual understanding, though. Rather, it’s something I feel in my bones and know intuitively. It’s the security that comes from the cyclical nature of change. I see the leafless trees and know that they will once again birth the life of foliage, sometime in the future. This knowing, in turn, creates an appreciation for where they are now: Naked and cold. In appreciating how things are in this moment, I accept change. And through the act of acknowledging change, I can be in gratitude for and with the present—which is not usually an easy task for me. I prefer to fight what is, always wanting something more, or different. I have “tried” to surrender, in the midst of such internal battles; I’ve tried hard, to no avail. For me, it is not nor has it ever been an act of will. The letting go, that is. It is more like a gift that is granted, perhaps by the power of Mother Nature. It may be her fierce authority that wakes me up to my own smallness. I realize that no matter how hard I try or how willful and stubborn I get, I can’t force the trees to grow back leaves any sooner than they just will, completely regardless of me. There is relief in this. And when I stop the fight my energy is freed up to appreciate the popping fire and the gorgeous power of the universe.

A LOVE STORY

How She Could Sing the Wildwood Flower. This is my new favorite song, by Emmylou Harris. It’s a love story, and no matter how often I say I don’t believe in love, I continue to notice those moments when I’m swept away by a love story. This story shares its themes with almost every other. A man falls for a woman, they live happily together for a while, but he is the driven type and doesn’t pay her enough attention. She gets lonely and leaves. He regrets. The love lives on in his memory, and in her song.

My favorite line in the song: “He’d bring her there to be his bride/ Where they would live and work together side by side.” The idea of being with a man with whom I could stand side-by-side, and a man who wants the same, evokes my every romantic fantasy. Of course, I fall for the part of the story where happily-ever-after seems possible, probable, given even. And the song might not rank among my favorites of the day if it weren’t about the eventual loss of this ideal. There is, admittedly, something romantic for me in the difficulty of the stories of love that awaken my soul.

I’m searching for a real life love story. One in which the love lasts. Transforms, for sure, but remains. I have yet to find one, and this leaves me wondering why it is so rare. Why so difficult? We get in our own way over and over again and love leaves us there. Even as a part of us always yearns for love of the lasting kind.

I once wrote about how love only exists in moments. And “lasting love” is only a series of those moments strung together. I continue to think this might be accurate. Lasting, romantic love is a fantasy. The truth of love can only exist if we renew our commitment to be open again and again and again; moment after moment after moment; which may be close to impossible for all human beings who are not the Dalai Lama. So, for now, I am trying to appreciate the sporadic moments, even as I desperately wish they were strung together more closely and with an individual whom I might live and work side-by-side.

This past week I experienced love when I went to pick up an order at a print shop. It was a large, warehouse type of place. There were about five guys working there, together, side-by-side, each looking like they had just rolled out of bed. And in some strange way, each looking like they loved the others. In response, I instantly “fell” for each and every one of them. I’m not sure why. Nor does it matter. The feeling I had was unmistakably love. So, whereas I will not stop searching for the unattainable love stories sung by the likes of Emmylou Harris, I will also search for these more isolated moments, which in themselves tell a love story of sorts.

Choosing the Cage of Fear

“…did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?” – Pink Floyd

I think most people choose the cage. On the conscious level, I would absolutely say that I’d prefer a walk on role in something meaningful than a lead role in a prison. Still, I choose the cage-- the prison. For the most part, I know why I do. It comes from a more unconscious place, one which I haven’t been able to will myself out of. I can’t, or won’t, turn the compassion I have for others toward myself. I know that this is the way out of the cage, but I fear that I will melt into mediocrity if I do. That others will take advantage of me— swallow me up, find pleasure in my mistakes, or simply use me for their own benefit. I fear, maybe, that I will disappear. The times I’ve tried to open myself and let my guard down and be more visible have backfired. They have not been liberating. So I choose the cage. And ironically, it is there that I disappear and melt into mediocity and disappoint myself. Still, I have more compassion for others who choose the same. And I think I will continue to try to escape, even if I'm not sure how to do so.

When the Fire Dies

Shut down long ago. Ever since embodying the form of a ghost.

Only a ghost.

Often invisible. Always shadowy. She travels through the forest unknowingly searching for the substance lost lifetimes prior. Until the day she gambled on believing it would all be okay. There was one tree, just a bit off her usual path, splintered by lightening. Belief that this wood could become a fire warmed her phantom soul. And dreams of the lost substance paved a new path. The fire lit the way. Color began to fill the shadows.

But fire can burn and splinters cut deeply. The same love she dared to imagine robbed her of the substance once more. And the pain is deeper this time. She played. And lost the bet. Only to find the heat of the pain and the splinter of rejection. The failed courage couldn’t win her the body, color, or dreams she spent eternity searching for.

Suspended between body and spirit. Unable to haunt or to walk the earth. The search for substance abandoned. To be only a ghost. To fall into the shadows and black holes that hide the pain—her desperate wish. But it’s too late. She gambled and lost. Feeling herself dying, now. Choosing death. The only way out of the nothing.

Shut down once again. The dreams have lost; and the fire, died.

Only darkness lives.

North Node Inspiration

There is a beautiful, sweetly glowing and sensual full moon out tonight. I love that I have become more attuned to the cycles of the moon. I actually know now, ahead of time, when I'll get my period. I was never very good at keeping track of that. Now it's easy. I also know when a month has passed and how I am doing with regard to following up with the intentions I set at each new moon. Anyway, the moon is gorgeous tonight. Enjoy it.

I'm suggesting a link to the blog of an astrologer who is smart, compassionate, and writes about things that are useful to people-- whether or not you know about or believe in astrology. She recently posted a list of the placement of a person's north node given their birth date. If you know your birthday, click here to find your north node placement, then search her archives for an article on your north node in it's respective sign. It's easy and you'll see what I mean once you're there. Assuming it resonates for you, it can help you live out your true calling:
http://www.northnodeastrology.blogspot.com/.

SACRED SACRIFICE

She needs what he has
He wants what she can offer
Healing, really.
She sells her body and sacrifices her soul.

Can the healing redeem her?
Is she a medicine woman?
Or a prostitute?
And is there a difference?

She needs what he has
And he wants to heal her,
Making sense of his own path.
She sells her soul and sacrifices her life.

Does the healing redeem him?
Or her?
Is she a wife or a prostitute?
Is there a difference?

The sacrificial lamb, and scapegoat;
The husband, and wife, and prostitute
Sacred healing or profanity?
Do we know the difference?

And does it matter?

What is Love?

"I don't believe in love." This, I spoke matter-of-factly to my couple's therapist recently. Love is an overused word. It refers to so many different states and most people seem to have no idea what they actually mean when they use it. Affection, concern, care, wanting the best for someone, sex, wanting someone to be around, obsession, wanting to take care of someone.... And the list goes on. A word that refers to almost everything has no meaning for me. The phrase, I love you, is just emptiness.

I'm mostly talking about Love with a capital L-- the romantic version. This "love," when we are “falling” into it, always describes one person projecting something onto another: I love you because you offer the promise of making me happy, or justifying my existence, or offering a spark of excitement in my life. I love you because: You complete me; you fill in my gaps; you enable me to remain in denial. I love you because: As a risk-taker you hold the part of me that wants to go for it, but is afraid to do so myself; or as the picture of stability, you represent my potential to achieve the same if I could only love myself enough. You get the picture. … and we call this love.

It is, in fact, what attracts us to one another to begin with. I'm attracted to the one who is unavailable so as to avoid my own fears around intimacy, but then when the relationship remains distant or is thwarted in some way, I wonder why I have such bad luck and I come to resent my partner. I choose to remain unconscious of the reasons I was drawn to this person in the first place. The problem is not so much the fact that we fall for our own distorted image of someone or choose someone who helps us to maintain a certain image of our selves, the problem is that we remain unaware of this. Thus, we don’t take accountability for it. We hide behind this thing called “love,” which is, when we really come down to it, pathology and neurosis. Now, coming on to a potential mate with a phrase like "I think I have a neurosis for you," or “my pathology is leading me to you,” is not going to get any of us very far. But it is a more truthful pick-up line, the large majority of the time. And recognizing something of this for yourself, early on in the relationship, will prevent much misery down the road.

Let’s take an example. I met my husband when I was 15. At the time, it was painful for me to see the distress and suffering and financial “inferiority” of my own family; and it would have been intolerable to invite others to see this. So, I chose someone who didn’t, and wouldn’t, look beneath the surface. Someone who was literal and concrete and uninterested in the depths of human experience. Twenty years later, I realized that things had changed. I had come to accept more and more of what I used to feel shame about. And now I was ready—in fact, I was deeply craving—someone who might wish to know all that lives within me. Someone I could share my inner world with. My husband is not this guy. For his part, he chose me because he enjoyed being needed, and without a family I could really count on, I needed him. He is also unconsciously drawn to exploring—from a distance—the f—ked-up-ness of life. He found, in me, a person he could do this with vicariously, without ever getting his hands or heart or soul dirty. I do that for him. The perfect couple. He calls it love. I call it synchronized neurosis.

The good news is this: I’m a psychologist who recognizes these patterns and strives to shed light on that which is unconscious. And my husband listens. We can both own our parts in the original “fall” and take back the material that we projected onto the other. He can see that being a caretaker is his need, more than it is about me and my needs. And I can see that I chose him for the exact dynamic that I now find so unsatisfying, which means that I don’t blame him for this. It doesn’t make our problems go away, but it does allow each of us to develop further as individuals. I cannot think of anything less romantic than grappling to own one’s shadow material, but for now, that is what we do.

In closing, here is my advice. If you are in love, stay there and enjoy it. Try to preserve, in the recesses of your mind, the idea that it won’t always be this way and that the very reasons you’re falling for him or her now will be the same reasons you have difficulties later on. Try to remember that loves turns into opportunities for self-development, if you work toward illumination. But for now, enjoy that thing most call love.

If you are at that stage where you are having difficulties in a current relationship, ask yourself the following: When I complain about x, what does that say about me? How am I participating in this dynamic? What image of myself am I needing to uphold? What is the most frightening thing I could imagine facing in a relationship? And then go find a therapist to help you sort this out. You will be better for it; and it will allow your relationship to either evolve into something more authentic or to dissolve in a compassionate way, allowing both partners to move forward knowing more about themselves.

Saturn- Uranus Opposition

I just have a few moments to share some thoughts about the current Saturn- Uranus opposition, which is a big deal in the astrological community. Planets are symbolic of energies that are present within human nature. Saturn, to me, represents the call to individuation. It is associated with key words such as father, authority, discipline, contstraint, limitation, etc. It is one of the more feared energies, and it brings us the consequences of that which we sow. It reminds us that we are ultimately responsible for our own lives. For this reason, I think of it as the crucible within which growth can occur-- a container of sorts. Uranus is associated with quickness, rebellion, sudden changes and insights, and individuality. I think of Uranus as the catalyst of a reaction-- that thing that sparks something into being.

So, today, the crucible meets the catalyst. We may be feeling held back at the very same time that we are jonesing for change. Sudden insights may come along with a feeling that we must maintain the status quo. Following the brilliant insights of Jung, we know that holding the tension of these opposite energies-- that is, allowing space for both, and all, of our feelings-- is what allows a third possibility to emerge. It is what allows something to result from the catalyst within the crucible.

This energy is personal to me, given significant transits to my natal planet placements. What I noticed within my own experience is this: Awareness of the potential for life-affirming energy calling me toward individuation. Knowing that it is time for me to choose from a place of Self-resonance, rather than fear or popular custom. Questions about whether I am up for it. Can I meet the challenge? Regret that I have “wasted time,” and may waste more. Sadness for so much suffering in the world. And doubt around whether I can access the courage I need now.

The crucible and the catalyst are available to all of us; this seems clear... what will we make of this?

Even tho we ain't got money...

Anxiety around the state of the economy seems to be swirling about everywhere these days, much like the leaves that now carpet the ground here in the Northeast. I sense it in people: More caution, close to the surface terror, knots in stomachs, and a resulting irritability which poorly disguises the fearful survival instinct that responds to all hints of threat.

I have noticed a differnt response within myself. Sadly, perhaps, I actually began to feel excited. "A challenge!," I thought. I grew up without a lot of money and watched my family struggle, often. For that reason, and others, I know now that I can survive just about anything. Whereas I love to spend money, I could just as easily be without it. What matters to me in life has no monetary value. Still, being excited is a strange reaction. I have to wonder about why those survival instincts are wanting to express themselves in this way, now...?

There is something else as well. News of the economy tanking evoked for me those fantasies of being in a romantic relationship with the starving-artist type of guy. Or being the starving artist type of gal. And leading a life in which passion mattered more than security. With security nowhere to be found, maybe passion would be more readily available. Stripped of material possessions, I would live closer to the depths and breadth of life, living in that nebulous realm where meaning and intensity each find their home.

I could live in the woods, I began to imagine, with Kenny Loggins' "Even though we ain't got money..." serving as the theme song of this fantasy. My husband's flesh would keep me warm; our conversation would provide all the nutrients I need; his semen, quench my thirst. Rather than sleepwalking through life, we would be faced with survival, and therefore in touch with death. And when any of us who are walking around this earth truly sit with our own impending death, we cannot help but move into the realm of meaning and passion and intensity.

When I snapped out of this fantasy, I was left with two thoughts. One, I would need a different husband entirely to participate in this fantasy with me. And two, I don't need to lose whatever money and security I have in order to sit with my own death. I can choose, now, to meditate on death and dying and my own eventual non-existence and follow the path of wherever this leads me.

I think I have more to say about the survival instinct and the various ways in which this manifests, but I'll leave that for another time, except to say that we are in the realm of astrology's 8th house and its affiliates, Scorpio and Pluto.

Sacred Fire

Two and half years ago, I had my first astrology reading. "Your task is to do home. What happens when you're home is more significant for you than what happens at work," my astrologer said. His words landed in the center of my solar plexus and crept up into my heart, where they evoked tears of recognition and a sense of something I couldn't put my finger on at the time. I now know it was the belief deep within that I had no idea how to "do home."

Sure, I watched the home and garden channel and had begun to experiement with cooking and interior design. Bur first and foremost I was a business woman, about to open my own small business, where I would manage things. This-- managing things-- I knew how to do. Work, I knew how to do. Winning awards and recognition for these skills, I knew how to do. But home? What did that mean?

I think I'm coming closer to knowing something about this. Vesta is the goddess of home. The goddess of the hearth of the home-- the place where the fire burns consistently, and necessarily, and only because of acts of devotion. Imagine the task of starting a fire from scratch, and then keeping that fire going-- day-in and day-out-- for days and weeks and months on end. It is a sacred task. My interest in astrology, and life, is about devotion to passion, to the fire that lives within each one of us.

A planetary body, an asteroid discovered in 1807, Vesta sits at the top of my natal chart, on the 9th house side of my midheaven, in Leo, alone. I have many, many planets, including my North Node, in the 4th house of home. And my sun is in the house ruled by Leo, the fifth. Taken together, and after two plus years of reflection and feeling into these planetary energies, I am coming to understand that home for me has much to do with the home within each one of us & within me. The home that is the body, the one that allows for creation in its most raw forms, and the wisdom contained therein. With the goddess of home at the top of my chart in the 9th, my connection to home can be shared with others, professionally, philosophically, and as part of a greater journey toward the kind of truth this blog is named for.

I am beginning to see my sacred purpose in life as that of holding space for others to come home to their bodies and creativity and homes(a Vestal activity), to discover that which they hold sacred, to know themselves intimately. I am meant to notice those sparks within and to tend those flames until they have the strength to burn on their own. To this, I am devoted. When devotion is called-for, sacrifice is chosen, and a strength of endurance and love of humanity ever-presnt, we are in the realm of Vesta, the Roman goddess of hearth. This is sacred, Vestal-energy.